The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  Calidra’s eyes hardened.

  ‘That axe of his would be useful if we’re going north.’ Selys commented, following his train of thought.

  ‘Probably. But…’ Calidra trailed off.

  ‘But what?’ Fenn asked, concerned.

  ‘Well. If you’re going north, Fenn, he’ll probably want to come along. I couldn’t say why. Man’s got problems and I don’t know why he’s so interested in you.’

  ‘We all have problems, Cal,’ Jisyel said, ‘if the Myr are on the move, having someone who’s actually fought them would probably be a good thing?’

  ‘He’s the former Porsenthian general, correct?’ Selys asked. ‘A man of his calibre would be useful if we were to encounter any Inquisitors. There’s only so far my rank and glaive can get us.’

  ‘I don’t trust him,’ Calidra said, her voice flat.

  Jisyel laughed. ‘You don’t trust anyone!’

  Calidra huffed and walked away, pacing the room. ‘I know, but there’s something about him. He’s got a taste for coin, for a start. An unhealthy one. Wine, too.’

  ‘Everyone has their vices,’ Selys said.

  Ignoring her, Calidra continued, ‘And he still hasn’t adequately explained why he’s so interested in you, Fenn. Perhaps he does know you from…before. It might be a bad thing.’

  Fenn sat upright in the bed, resting his back against the wooden headboard. ‘I helped Jisyel on the road, and that made you trust me. Varlot helped you, and you trust him…less?’

  ‘Everyone has a motive, Fenn. You’ve clearly spent too much time with Jisyel—you’re as naive as she is!’

  ‘Hey!’ Jisyel stuck her tongue out.

  Fenn thought about it. Other than their brief meeting in Ballowtown, he’d not spent any time with Varlot. If anything, the man had been kinder to him than Calidra had been, and he’d known him for less time. At least Varlot hadn’t waved a dagger in his face and threatened to pass him over to an Inquisitor.

  Although Torsten had done most of the fighting against the Myrish creature in Ballowtown, Varlot had done his part, too. Having him along with Selys’s glaive would surely keep them out of trouble if they were to be attacked. ‘Where’s Varlot now?’

  ‘Probably in one of the gambling dens in town. Mother refused his contract to train Paicha. He didn’t take that rejection particularly well. Stalked off in a huff,’ Calidra replied, in a tone that told Fenn exactly what she thought of that.

  ‘Selys, can you see if you can find him? Ask if he’ll come with us into Porsenthia?’

  Calidra snorted. ‘Fenn, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why not? He helped me before. Helped you, too? And he’s fought the Myr. If we get into trouble on the way…’

  ‘Fenn…’

  ‘I know you don’t trust him, Calidra, but his axe is going to be handy on the road. If he doesn’t have a contract anymore, do you want him lingering around Fellwood? Possibly causing trouble?’

  Selys grabbed her glaive before Calidra could say anything more, the dragon-carved jade beads clinking together. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll find Varlot. You get some rest.’ With a nod to the others, the priestess exited the room.

  ‘Cal, you’ve got to let your walls down sometimes.’ Jisyel hugged her, burying her face in Calidra’s shoulder. ‘Not everyone is out to get you. Selys and Varlot are both good people. And whatever happens with your mother, I’m here. It’ll be okay.’

  Fenn was stunned. Jisyel was silly, sweet, and playful. He’d seen her afraid—of him, when Selys had mentioned the Myr—and serious when she’d searched for Calidra in Vaelar. But this was another side to the woman that he’d not known about. He’d always assumed Calidra was the one who kept Jisyel grounded, but it appeared to be the other way around. Calidra simply had a stronger, more dominant front that she put on in front of strangers.

  He almost felt rude for watching.

  The two women hugged, clearly taking comfort and strength from one another. When they broke away, Calidra wiped her eyes and turned to Fenn. ‘Stay in here and get some rest. My room is pretty apart from the rest of the house, so you shouldn’t be bothered. Mother will have no intention of checking up on you, anyway. I’ll be back soon with something to eat.’ She kissed Jisyel on the cheek before heading out the door, making sure to close it behind her.

  ‘Thanks for being with me, Jisyel.’ Fenn rubbed his eyes, ridding himself of the last traces of tiredness. ‘I don’t know about Varlot, and I don’t know what I’ll find in Porsenthia. But I’m…I’m really glad you and Calidra were with me.’

  Jisyel sat on the bed and looped an arm loosely around his shoulders. ‘We spend too long alone sometimes. And you helped me when I was stuck. I don’t think gran would ever forgive us if we stranded you.’

  ‘What about the Inquisitors?’

  Jisyel laughed. ‘That was Calidra being Calidra. When it comes down to it, she’s a softie, really. And she does care. Just takes a while to trust people.’

  ‘I suppose her mother is part of why?’

  Jisyel nodded and drew her knees up to her chest. ‘I know it’s scary, but we’re doing the right thing. I think.’

  Fenn tried to force away the memory of the Myr’s icy-touch, and focus on what it had said instead. Jisyel was lost in thought, and he wondered if he should tell her. How he could tell her.

  She’d managed to come to terms with him being Myr-touched, and was in the best mood he’d seen her in now they’d reunited with Calidra.

  He looked down at his fingers, trying to figure out what to say.

  In the end, Fenn decided it would be best kept to himself. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to lightly doze, as he rested for what could be the last time in a long journey to come.

  17

  The Exile

  calidra

  Calidra woke early the next morning, just before the sun rose. She turned her face away from the window and reached for Jisyel. Instead of the empty sheets she’d dealt with the past few days, Jisyel was there this time. Warm and soft and real.

  ‘Too early,’ Jisyel muttered, when Calidra gently shook her awake.

  Calidra grinned. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed Jisyel’s morning complaints. ‘Come on. You’re the one who wanted me to wake you early. You wanted to see Fenn and Selys before they left? Or have you changed your mind?’

  Jisyel lifted her head off the pillow, suddenly more awake than she’d been five seconds before. ‘I do want to!’

  Calidra shook her head. ‘I’m happy to go north with them. Malora…I can’t believe she’s alive.’

  Jisyel yawned. ‘Come on, Cal. How bad can it be here?’

  ‘Extremely.’

  It was a complicated issue. Calidra knew Furyn had a point, and many of her arguments were valid. With the Laird gone, her mother would need help running the canton and keeping their borders safe—from other Lairds and now the Myr, not to mention holding off Inquisitor visits ensuring they were paying correct homage to the Iron Crown. The canton depended on its Laird, which meant they were depending on her, too. Now she was back, it did seem silly to leave again so soon.

  But she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to stay. Not after how her mother had behaved.

  She’d only just got Jisyel back. She didn’t want to start immediately dismissing her advice.

  Calidra had just wanted to grab Jisyel and run, get away from the Myr. But Fenn had been too exhausted. Poor lad hadn’t stopped trembling until late that evening.

  The Myr.

  Anyone in Porsenthia—or most of Braglia—would deny the possibility of the creatures.

  But Furyn hated Porsenthians, including Queen Surayo. And she was more likely to listen to her Olmese kinsman than the Iron Crown’s flat refusal to accept the Myr’s resurgence. At least her mother had taken Amsel’s warning seriously, and posted extra watches on the outskirts of Fellwood. There was no chance the town would be caught in a surprise attack.

 
Calidra could get used to sleeping in a decent bed again. But just in case things went south with Furyn and Jisyel, Calidra had packed a bag ready for a quick escape. Better to be safe than sorry.

  ‘I think you’re making this issue worse than it is.’ Jisyel sat up, pushing the sheets off herself.

  ‘My mother didn’t bother with Fenn, and he passed out in the middle of her garden! She won’t care for you, either. She hates Porsethians.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  Calidra rolled her eyes. ‘You’re too stubborn for your own good.’

  Jisyel giggled.

  Calidra rubbed her nose against Jisyel’s. ‘Come on. Let’s get you something to eat before we see Fenn and Selys off.’

  After getting breakfast from the kitchens—Calidra was sure to grab a large jar of pickles which she stuffed into her bag—she and Jisyel headed out into the gardens. She and Malora had always shared a jar of them whenever they’d left Fellwood. Although she’d never been a fan of her sister’s favourite snack, it was a tradition between them, and she wanted to continue that.

  The sun had peeked over the horizon and it was already a warm morning, but before they’d even crossed through the first gate, they heard Varlot shouting.

  They shared a worried glance, and when Fenn appeared from the far side of the garden, eyes wide as he ran towards them, Calidra’s heart thudded. Had her mother done something? Said something? Was everything already falling apart? Her mind whirled with ways to placate her mother.

  Fenn skidded to a halt beside Calidra and Jisyel, panting. ‘I’m pretty sure one of them is going to kill the other soon!’

  ‘What? Who? Why?’ Jisyel gasped.

  ‘Last night, when Selys went looking for Varlot, she found him in a gambling den. I don’t know more than that, but Varlot is angry.’

  ‘That’s a long time to be angry?’ Jisyel frowned.

  Fenn shrugged. ‘He’s still annoyed about it this morning. Was fine up until he saw Selys.’

  Calidra cringed inwardly. Her mother wouldn’t allow scenes of this nature at her home. She cared far too much about keeping up appearances. This sort of yelling would definitely anger her.

  She didn’t waste any time. Dropping her bag of supplies, she bolted across the gardens and through the hedge gate Fenn had come through.

  When she rounded the corner, she was glad that no weapons had been drawn.

  Selys and Varlot were in the middle of a heated argument—although as she watched, Varlot was doing all of the yelling while Selys held her ground, stoic. The noise was already attracting the attention of her mother’s household guard, with two of them hanging back as they watched the pair, uncertain. It looked like Selys and Varlot were in a competition over who could stare the hardest in between Varlot’s furious words.

  ‘Where is my mother?’ Calidra asked the nearest soldier.

  The man glanced at her, then turned his attention back to Selys, Varlot, and his colleague. ‘Lady Vantonen is occupied at present. Several officers from Fellwood arrived late last night to discuss how she plans to keep the canton safe from the Myrish threat.’

  That shouldn’t have been surprising. And really, Calidra should be with Furyn. But her entire relationship with her mother was made up of cyclical interactions of arguing, screaming, punching, crying, and then feeling awful for days on end. That wasn’t healthy at the best of times, and certainly not while they were trying to mount a defence against Tassar’s greatest threat.

  Varlot’s tantrum was all they needed.

  Calidra marched over to the pair, stepping between them with her hands raised. ‘Okay, what’s the matter with you two? Varlot?’

  ‘Get out of the way, Calidra!’ Varlot roared. He drew his axe, more out of frustration, Calidra thought, than any real desire to strike her. Calidra only had her dagger in her belt, which she unsheathed and held up. It was a long hunting knife, perfect for skinning rabbits, but would be woefully ineffective against the former Porsenthian General.

  ‘Calidra!’ Jisyel yelled.

  ‘Threaten me with that axe and you’ll regret it!’ Calidra forced as much strength into her voice as she could.

  ‘I’m not threatening you with my axe, I’m threatening that halfwitted priestess!’ Varlot spat, sidestepping Calidra.

  She stepped over to block his path again, but the bigger man simply shunted her out of the way with his shoulders. ‘Varlot! What is the problem?’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Varlot glared at her before returning his attention to Selys, who stood stationary, arms folded across her chest, her glaive sheathed across her back. ‘That woman stole from me is what’s the problem!’

  ‘I did no such thing.’ Selys glared back, finally reacting to Varlot’s accusations.

  ‘Liar!’ Varlot was furious—a vein bulged on the side of his neck and he squeezed the axe’s handle tighter. ‘You stole thirty-two gold pieces and forty-two silvers! I was up seventy-five and that was gonna to grow before you showed up! If you hadn’t distracted me, I’d have won the lot! You made me lose, and that’s as good as theft!’

  ‘You would have lost that even if I hadn’t showed up.’ Selys argued back, unflinching from Varlot’s furious shouting, and yet to raise her own voice. ‘You were too into your cups to notice.’

  Calidra shook her head. ‘Is this anger really over a game of dice?’ She could hardly believe it. The Myr were at their doorstep, Fenn had been unconscious for most of the previous afternoon, and instead of patrolling the town, gathering information, keeping an eye out for Inquisitors, or anything that would have helped their cause, Varlot had wasted away the entire day—and most of the evening—in a gambling den. Because he was upset at Furyn’s rejection.

  No wonder her mother hated Porsenthians.

  ‘Are you done shouting? You’re behaving like a child,’ Selys said.

  ‘I don’t care what you think of me,’ Varlot snapped.

  ‘I am not here to judge.’

  Her response enraged him further, and he jabbed a finger in her direction. ‘Don’t start with that holy nonsense!’

  Calidra stepped back to stand beside Selys. ‘Varlot, no-one’s keeping you here. Mother didn’t pay you. I promised you she would, and I’m sorry she didn’t hold up her end of the bargain. But if you’re that short on coin, why waste a day in a gambling den? You could have been looking for other contracts? Gone back to Ballowtown to find work? Wallowing in wine isn’t going to help.’

  She knew she was being somewhat hypocritical—she’d done plenty of wallowing herself on the way to Fellwood, but she’d always tried to be pragmatic, too.

  Varlot snorted his indignation. ‘Like you have any idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You do realise we are under attack? Couldn’t you have picked a better time to go off and play?’

  ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do!’

  Calidra shook her head. ‘Of course not, but surely you have some common sense?’

  ‘Now is the best time to play! You know how much money people are willing to part with in a crisis? On the eve of battle, you get rich. It’s always the way. I would’ve been able to get so much—’

  ‘Come on, guys, we’re meant to be working together, not fighting!’ Fenn hurried forward, both his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. He approached Varlot. ‘There’s no need to be like this! Selys is just trying to help! I’m the one who asked her to find you. I wanted to ask if you’d—’

  ‘Fenn, stay out of this, lad!’ Varlot bellowed, then turned back to Calidra. ‘She distracted me. Made me lose all that coin. With your mother going back on her word, you’ve left me in a hole! Despite the Myr being at our doorstep as you have already warned us about. Your brother could do with learning a sword art, otherwise he’s not going to make himself very useful is he?’

  Varlot was practically frothing at the mouth. Was he really so absorbed by the gambling that he reacted this strongly? Or was something else going on? She cast a worried glance at Jisyel
, who shrugged.

  ‘All right, that’s enough.’ One of the household guards drew his sword and held it up.

  There was no reason why her mother wouldn’t have perfectly competent, well-trained soldiers in her employ, but she doubted very much that the man would be able to stand up to Varlot—even if he was on the cusp of a blind rage. She didn’t want to get between them again, as Varlot might well end up swinging his axe.

  She’d always been unsure of the bigger man, could tell he had a bit of a temper, was easily frustrated, and clearly had an issue with money. But his prowess in battle wasn’t something to be sneezed at, and she suddenly wanted to keep her distance. Yes, he’d helped her. Without him, she might not have ever made it to Fellwood. And if Furyn wasn’t going to pay him, then she was indebted to Varlot even more. But her instincts about the man had been right.

  ‘We’re allies. There’s no need for bloodshed. Put your weapon away,’ Selys said. She’d not even drawn her glaive.

  If it came to a fight between the priestess and the former general, Calidra honestly wasn’t sure who would come out on top. Usually she would side with a priestess—anyone who had the boon of a dragon would be a formidable opponent, no matter how strong the person they faced was. But Selys was a priestess of Neros. The spirit who never blessed her worshippers.

  Yet Selys had all the confidence of someone who knew they had the upper hand in a battle. She didn’t flinch, even as one of the household guards approached Varlot and made to bat away his axe with his own, smaller sword.

  ‘General! Stand down!’ the soldier ordered, levelling his sword at Varlot.

  Calidra couldn’t stand for this. She had to do something before it spiralled out of control. ‘Varlot, please! I understand you’re upset but—’